Lily and Cibolo and the Near Colic

There is so much to say, so much to catch up with. There were the wonderful people, the miserable rain, the crushing feeling of disappointment, the laughter, the learning - so much, so much.

And I will catch up with that, report on the clinic and tell you about it all.

But tonight, I am much too distracted by the night's events.

Because tonight, Cibolo would not eat.

I arrived at the barn just before feeding time to drop off my clean and re-organized trailer. Everyone was there and we visited while I took Cibolo out and began the process of learning to put on his very, very pink boots.

He seemed bright and happy to see me. He was still in the stall, since he is on bute (which is part of the story that will come later), I didn't want him to hurt himself dashing around the paddock. I put his grain in a bucket, gave him some hay. I finished unpacking, then worked on putting his new boots on. Then I gave him his final bit of bute and prepared to take him for a walk.

That's when I noticed he hadn't eaten.

Hmm, I thought. Maybe it's early.

As if *that* has ever slowed him down.

I walked him around in his pink boots, and after a few dancing steps he settled into them. I offered him a chance to graze. He passed. Was it the boots? Were they too weird?

I brought him back, took off the boots. He still didn't eat.

Maybe he doesn't like the bucket I'd hung the grain in, I thought. It's kind of torn and might feel weird because it's hanging a little high.

I put him in a stall, noticing the change in his face now. He didn't seem bright anymore. I dumped in his grain. He ignored it. He walked away and dropped a small load of manure. He walked around slowly, then rolled.

Then he did it again. He rolled, but more slowly, reluctantly.

My heart sank. Cibolo began pawing the ground. Then he'd lie down and get up. I listened to his belly. Nothing.

With Kelly and Davy's help, I gave him banamine and called DH. DH said he'd be right over.

Then I started walking Cibolo. His head was low and he walked closer than normal, as if he was distracted internally. When we'd stop he'd lean in slightly for a pet. He put his muzzle to the ground halfheartedly, but it was as if there was nothing appetizing within reach.

After a few minutes I wandered over to the area just the other side of the paddock where Lily is. There's a big field there, and it's a place we've hand grazed before. Surely there would be something he could eat in the field.

Nothing. Cibolo would nuzzle around with despair. Then I heard a call from one of the horses. I was shocked to see it was Lily. She was staring right at him, walking toward the fence.

Lily NEVER calls to Cibolo. Never. I've hand grazed him in this area half a dozen times and she never calls him. I've grazed her near Cibolo and he never calls out to her.

But there she was, staring straight at Cibolo, stepping as close to the electric fence as she could. I walked Cibolo closer to her, and could tell she wanted to touch noses. I didn't want her to get shocked, though. I remembered that at the gate to her paddock there was no wire.

"I'll go to the gate Lily," I said. "Meet us there."

She walked over to meet us at the gate. She and Cibolo touched noses through the bars, then stared at each other for a few minutes. Then, Cibolo started to graze. And graze. And graze.


Lily walked alongside us, looking directly at Cibolo, even though she was leaving her own piles of hay behind. This never happens - she's usually back to her own group after a cookie check - if we even get that.

After a while, I snapped from my surprise and pulled up some grass for her. Lily nibbled on it as Cibolo continued to chow down.

After 15 minutes or so, I put Cibolo back in his stall and he began to eat his grain. I could hear his belly sounds. I left him to his food and went to give Lily a little something special.



As of this moment, Cibolo is doing fine. He has passed several good ... piles, and looks fine.

And Lily looks like more than a good horse. A lot more.

On the way to the Barn

We take a break from our scheduled horse hoof pictures to bring you a little something.

Very little.

As in mini donkeys!

We were driving back from agility practice (which will be another blog post), when we spotted this crowd on the side of the road.

Look! She pulled over! Get in formation everybody!

Hi. So. How are you?

Don't get to close. I kick!

Enough of the small talk. You got carrots?

I told you, you gotta be more polite.

Don't stare, honey. I know she looks weird.

Go on. You'll be fine.

See this square? That's where the carrots go. I'm just sayin...

Boy, do I know what I'm getting when we get our own ranch.

Horse dreams

I call it horse dreams because I can only dream of riding these days. After being sick for two weeks I'm so behind on the holidays that a veil of terror has descended. I've focused this weekend on getting caught up as much as possible. Horse time is curtailed severely.

I did visit Canyon on Friday and noted how his bite is healing.

Here's the bite.

Now look at this face. Who could bite a horse with that face?




Apparently a sorrel gelding.

There's a gelding at the stables that has become crabby. His owner, a young girl with learning challenges, has been gone for what seems like months. She comes over once in a blue moon, and as a result her horse, Beautiful, has become more difficult. He's learned to buck and be stubborn in the arena. So his owner is now even less motivated to ride. It's become a vicious cycle.

I've noticed that horses who are turned out at the stables and ridden very little seem to develop a terrible attitude in the pasture over a few months. It's almost as if they revert, or get bored and angry. Doesn't happen with every one, but it happens a lot.

I saw this happen with a mare out there. She was a tough mare and was very unfriendly when I met her. But when she lived elsewhere she was fine, reportedly. Dominant, but not obnoxious. The difference?

At her previous home she was ridden nearly every day. At her new home she got very little attention. She turned into a kicker and was becoming a danger to other horses. It was like she hated everybody - including other members of the herd.

Then someone came out and leased her for a while. She went from being a monster to being much, much better. Here was a horse that would bite at anybody that got in range suddenly became a horse that you could pet and safely walk around. Her head would lower, her eyes were soft. She was still dominant, but not dangerous.

It was as if she needed a dominant owner so she could relax and not be in charge. I've seen this in dogs, but never thought it applied to horses.

Unfortunately the woman who was leasing her had to leave and the beautiful mare with reining training went back to her old ways. In a few months she went to the auction. She went for a decent amount, so she probably has a good safe home.

At least I hope so.



Canyon has his wooly coat on. He's never been blanketed, and he certainly looks warm.

I miss him. Maybe I'll sneak over there for a ride tomorrow...

There's something about horse whiskers. Lately it's my favorite thing.



I'm weird, I know.

Horse play and the low man on the totem pole

The one aspect of horses that's the hardest to deal with for me is the battle between the geldings. At one point I was working with the top horse in the herd who was just picking on everybody. Now I have the horse that's being picked on.

I came out to work with Canyon and started to brush him when he suddenly set back. He hasn't set back in months. I thought he got spooked, so I untied him and did a few circles with him on the ground. Then I went back to brushing and he jumped (but didn't set back, those circles worked). Upon further inspection I realized he'd gotten hit in the back. I could feel the heat and the swelling.

The first clue should have been when I took him out and it looked like his withers were so much higher. He was holding himself so differently his conformation actually looked different.

I borrowed some mineral ice, gave him some bute and called the vet in the morning to make sure there wasn't anything else I needed to do.

This isn't the first time he's been beat up on. He went through a period there when he looked like he was experimenting with scarification. They switched horses around, and he did okay, then he had hives, was sequestered and since he turned back out with the others he's had a few more nicks and bites.

But this incident scared me. I wondered if he could be permanently disabled by his struggles as the herd geek. Having been a geek as a child and barely surviving the experience, I'm probably overly sensitive about it.

Still.

Since there are a few open pastures, I asked them to set him out on his own for a while, or set him out at night only. I don't think he likes being set out by himself, but until we can find him a quieter gang to run with I think I prefer him to be a lone gelding.

Someday we'd like to get our own place with another horse on hand. Hopefully I can either find a good match, or a divided pasture.